The Art That Made Me Cry. Twice.

I won’t deny it, I cry easily. Movies (and commercials), make-believe stories, songs on the radio, the list goes on and on. If you cry, I will likely cry in response. Over the past year, though, I’ve discovered that I’m crying less and less.

And so I’m paying attention to the things that make me cry.

It’s something Emily Freeman frequently encourages her readers to do, so I certainly can’t take any credit for the idea, but it has helped me pause and attempt to discover what it is about a story or a moment that elicits such a response from me.

About two weeks ago I stumbled across a video of a man without fingers expertly playing a Yiruma song on the piano, one that I’ve listened to hundreds of times in the dark of night when sleep wouldn’t come.

Within ten seconds there were tears in my eyes.

And almost immediately, I thought, “What in the actual world, Kaitlyn? Get a grip here.”

But I came back to the same video a few days later and had the same reaction.

His art and his gift back to the world made my body pause and then react without thinking. I froze, my mouth fell open a bit, and tears sprang to my eyes.

Because of art.

Because of one person doing what they were made to do, regardless of the difficulty or the hardship or the time spent practicing when no one was watching.

He just kept showing up and offering his gift.

May we play and write and love with abandon. May we continue to offer our art, whatever it may look like, believing that it has been given for a reason. And long before anyone pauses to notice, may we believe that He has given us something to share, something worth sharing, and He won’t waste a thing.

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Kaitlyn – these same words that Tara quotes above, these beautiful words that you made into a gorgeous image – were just what I needed to hear today. I’ve been unable to write for more than a week, and when I’m stymied like this I start to believe the enemy’s lies that any art I might finally manage to produce isn’t worth much, even if I’ve produced it only for His glory. I’ve saved your image to my home screen. Thank you so much.Gretchen recently posted…The Cherub Choir Sings “Happy Birthday”

Kaitlyn,
oh that was beautiful indeed. My cry moment today was while I was driving and having a conversation with my girls. We were talking about what Jesus looked like. And I told them it wouldn’t matter if I’d never seen Him. That when I get to heaven, I’m going to see Him and I’m just going to know it’s Him.
(I began to get choked up) That I’ll see the way He looks at me and I’m just going to know that everything that was hard here that was done because it was right will be worth it. That I’ll have shown Him that His love and sacrifice were worth it to me, and He’ll hold me, and I’ll let go of all of the rest of it.
Thank you for taking me back to that moment again tonight!
Love,
Tammy

THIS: “May we play and write and love with abandon. May we continue to offer our art, whatever it may look like, believing that it has been given for a reason. And long before anyone pauses to notice, may we believe that He has given us something to share, something worth sharing, and He won’t waste a thing.” I’m a crier too!

A book for the broken hopefuls… Even If Not: Living, Loving, and Learning in the in Between